


Not His Only Devotion

by astrangerenters



Category: Kamisama no Karute
Genre: F/M, Married Sex, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He moves the same now but with the gleam of the silver band on his left hand that proves that medicine is not his only devotion. Though he forgot their anniversary and sometimes drifts away when they talk, Ichi-san is hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not His Only Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Some spoilers for the movie (aka this probably won't make any sense unless you've watched it).
> 
> Written for the J-actress meme on Livejournal

She hasn't seen Ichi-san in days, but she's used to it by now. Because she knows he's busy doing everything he can with the best of intentions. That doesn't mean she hasn't missed him, and even after all these years, she still feels a sort of tickle in her belly when she looks over the rail to see him trudging up the path, briefcase in hand. 

When he was still in medical school and they weren't yet married, he walked in the same way. The slow, measured steps of someone whose mind was a million miles away. Or just a little bit closer, back at the hospital with the scolding nurses and the impatient resident doctors. He moves the same now but with the gleam of the silver band on his left hand that proves that medicine is not his only devotion. Though he forgot their anniversary and sometimes drifts away when they talk, Ichi-san is hers.

"Ichi-san," Haruna calls out to him. He looks up with his tired eyes and smiles weakly.

The floorboards creak when he enters the inn they share with the others and heads for the kitchen. "I was at the shrine today," she tells him as he takes in the smell of dinner. "I stopped at the market on the way back."

"Pork," he says appreciatively, and Haru knows his mouth is watering. She packs onigiri for him with love as often as she can, but he'll surely drop if that's all he eats for days on end. He deserves something better after such a long shift. The inn is empty tonight, just the two of them, and it seems almost too large.

Ichi-san eats a little too quickly, so there's not much room for talking. He only mumbles something about a new patient. Izumi-san, Azumi-san, she doesn't hear him correctly, and he talks about her condition with food in his mouth. She assumes he skipped his lunch that afternoon in favor of treating some patients. His eyes are so weak, fighting to stay open behind the thin frames of his glasses, and Haru worries that he may just pitch forward into his plate.

She nudges him with her elbow. "We'll reheat more for breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees as she clears everything away. "I don't have to go in until noon tomorrow."

Which means he'll leave around 9:00 or 10:00 because he's stubborn. He goes to take a bath, and after 20 minutes she goes in to wake him up, finding his fingers pruny but his hair unwashed. He stirs while she soaps up his long, messy hair. "Haru..."

"Yes," she says, scratching her fingernails across his scalp.

"Thank you. I should tell you more. I'm sorry."

"You should," she agrees. "Now get out so I can have my bath."

When she comes out of the washroom, it's clear that he tried to wait up for her. The lights are still on, and he's fast asleep with a book in one hand, and his glasses in the other. When they first started living at the inn with the others (when there'd been so many of them), she loved to watch him sleep. She'd taken dozens of pictures of Subject: Kurihara Ichito at rest, playing with angles and lighting, but always from a distance. Now they're married, and he's right in front of her. It's tempting to reach for her camera even now.

Instead she changes into some comfortable pajamas, slipping the book and his glasses away before putting a blanket over him. He's too heavy to drag over to his futon, and she can't bear to wake him again. The floor won't be so bad since he probably naps in chairs at work. "Good night, Ichi-san," she whispers before shutting out the lights and crawling into her own futon.

\--

Haru dreams of the mountains and fresh air and the peace it brings her. The air is growing thinner, and it's harder to breathe, and only then does she wake to discover that Ichito has crawled across the floor to her. "Ichi-san," she murmurs, still half-asleep. It's still very dark and there's a chill because he's pulled her blankets away, but his body is warm.

"Haru, I'm sorry," he says with his straightforward honesty. "I should let you sleep. I'm very sorry for being impulsive."

"I don't mind," she replies because she's missed him just as much. And because he's already woken her up so his apology doesn't help.

It would be easier with some light on, but the hands that heal find her in the darkness with little trouble. He kisses her cheek once, twice and then he pulls down her pajama bottoms and panties. "Haru," he mumbles, and for once his mind is right here and not with the hospital and the problems he can't always fix.

She gasps quietly as he slips a finger within her, then another, stroking her gently so she'll be ready for him. She loves the feeling of his hands on her, his fingers inside her. He's gone so much, and she is too on her own shoots that these times are precious. This closeness and intimacy is precious. Haru prays that maybe this time will be the one to change their future, her body adjusting to accommodate him as he parts her legs and enters her.

He's a little rough, a little desperate. It could be the late hour and his sleep deprivation. It could be simple desire, and she welcomes it because she knows that he loves her, wants her so badly. "Haru Haru Haru," he's whispering in the dark, and she holds him tight in her arms. It's over shortly after, and she kisses him. She'll go to the shrine tomorrow and pray. 

He moves to return to his own futon but she refuses, kissing him on his sweaty forehead and fumbling around in the dark for her blankets. She pulls them up and over both of them, and he obediently remains with her. Tomorrow he has more people to care for, but tonight he's the patient in need of comfort. 

"Good night, Ichi-san," she says, safe and warm in his arms.

"Good night, Haru."


End file.
